Lance Fox and the Deathstick
by BlaikeRyder
Summary: <html><head></head>"You hold a wand in your hands that is capable of dark, dark magic, that is unknown to even the most skilled Dark wizards. It's powers in dueling will never fail you..."</html>
1. Invitation to Hogwarts

_Mr. L. Fox_

_Ocean Blue Bedroom_

_56021 Clearview Boulevard_

An eleven year old Lance Knight examined the giant orange envelope with the emerald green writing curiously, examining both sides of it. As far as he could remember, the only letters he had gotten were letters from his grandparents, and those were few and far between; on the back of the envelope was a wax seal bearing a lion, a badger, an eagle, and a snake all protecting a large H in the middle.

As he sat on down upon his porch to open his letter, he realized what this peculiar letter was. It wasn't a common letter, at least not common to his neighbors. To families like him, this piece of parchment was perfectly normal for young wizards and witches.

He had been expecting the letter for some time now, by the school entering his thoughts constantly and his brother's endless nagging of what house he would receive. But now, finally, it was here! He noticed his brother Oliver's invitation to his third year still lying on the doorstep.

Choosing to ignore it for the time being, Lance opened his letter without further hesitation, not even bothering to tell his mother in the kitchen that he had gotten the mail.

**Hogwarts School**

_of _**Witchcraft**_ and _**Wizardry**

Headmaster: Albus Potter

Dear Mr. Fox,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed

a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins September 1. We will accept your owl no later than

July 31.

Yours Sincerely,

_Delilah Abbot_

Delilah Abbot,

_Deputy Headmistress_

He read the letter once. Twice. It wasn't until Lance had read the letter three times

did he believe it was real, and not just a dream. Finally, a place to meet other young people like him...magical.

True, he had his older brother and younger sister, but now he could meet people that were his age and shared his talents.

Oliver Fox had been born two years before Lance, and unlike his younger brother who was tall and lean, he was tall and lanky, and had a tendency to lose his footing. However, this didn't affect his magical prowess; like his mother and father, Oliver had a natural talent at charms, and could levitate objects in his first year, according to one of his remarkable yet knowing what his prowess in the magical arts might be, Lance had only to look forward to Muggle sports until this day.

Lance had known he possessed magical talents since he was eight, when he noticed he could turn pages in his books without his hands, and again when he was ten and could jump from swings and land light as a feather.

Lance couldn't hold still from his excitement and burst through the front door. He raced through the house from the elaborately decorated front porch to the comfy and pleasant kitchen where a joyful Mrs. Fox stood cooking a delicious smelling beef stew. Mrs. Fox was slender in frame, and had shining auburn hair falling down her back. Her piercing blue eyes were watching the stew intently while her fair complected hand waved her wand here and about, making objects fly from corners of the kitchen and into the boiling pot on the stove.

"Mum, look!" Lance thrust his invitation to Hogwarts into his mother's arms, and she scanned the letter while still attending to the stew.

"This is great, Lance! Remind me to have us take a trip to Diagon Alley tomorrow for you and your brother, okay?" Lance, having been to Diagon Alley in the past, felt a rush of excitement rush through him and he stammered an "okay".

"Where's your brother's letter?" Lance's mom asked him. Lance, who had forgotten about his brother's envelope, dashed to retrieve it, and by the time he returned, his brother was eating bacon and eggs in the dining room.

Lance slid Oliver's invitation to him across the table, and his brother caught it mid bacon-bite. "Morning, Lance," Oliver greeted him cordially.

"Morning," He replied, taking a seat at the table after getting himself a plate of bacon and a glass of orange juice.

"Got your invitation?" Oliver asked Lance while taking a sip of his water. "Obviously," Lance answered him by holding up his own letter.

"So you reckon you're going to be in Gryffindor too, then?"

"How am I supposed to know? From what you've said, the hat knows more about yourself than you do."

"You must have some sort of idea though?"

"I don't know, okay?" Lance snapped at Oliver, glaring with his deep purple, amethyst like eyes into his brother's charming golden yellow eyes. Both Lance and Oliver had oddly colored eyes for reasons unknown to them, yet their mother and father seemed to have a clue as to why but refused to share their knowledge with them.

Oliver and Lance shared the same oval shaped head with a slightly pointed chin and enthusiastic smile. Oliver and Lance shared some charming features, yet looked distinct compared to the other, and the same from afar.

Ever since Oliver had returned from Hogwarts after his first year, an invisible barrier had formed between him and his brother, and both were secretly hoping that Lance's going to Hogwarts would remove that barrier. In hopes of removing it, Oliver was evidently hoping that Lance would end up in the same house as him.

"Now boys, what would your father say if he was here?" Lance's mother chastised them as she picked up their plates with a flick of her wand.

"It doesn't matter what house you're in, you're always special?" Oliver guessed, to which Lance gave a small chuckle.

Lance's mom shook her head and continued washing dishes. After a few moments of silence, their mother stated plainly, "Your father won't make it back from the Ministry until after you both have arrived at Hogwarts and won't be able to see you off."

Lance groaned. His father had been gone for a week now, and he wasn't even going to be able to see him before he took leave of his home? He had been growing anxious of his father's continued absence, and found it strange not to be seeing him for almost a year.

Oliver seemed to take the news casually, and brushed the matter aside quickly. "When are we going to make a stop to Diagon Alley?" He inquired as he helped clean the plates by hand.

Lance's mom washed a speck of bacon on a plate vigorously before answering. "I told Lance tomorrow, but I'm not sure if we can make it tomorrow. Would you boys be ready to go in a few hours?"

Lance nodded and a question escaped his lips that he had not intended to let out. "Why can't we go tomorrow?"

Lance's mother seemed to contemplate the question for a short while, then she answered with a furrowed brow, "A Dark wizard by the name of Ashton Bishop has escaped from Azkaban, and there are rumors circling that he is heading for the Leaky Cauldron area. I figure the sooner we go, the better chance we have of not meeting him."

She raised her eyebrows then added, "Don't mention a word of this to your sister."

Almost directly after she said this, a rosy faced girl of ten clambered into the kitchen rubbing her eyes. Apparently not hearing the latter, she poured herself a bowl of cereal sleepily.

"Amber, hurry and eat breakfast, sweetie, so we can go shopping for the boy's school supplies," Lance's mother said tenderly to her youngest child.

Amber, like her mother, had long auburn hair that reached just past her shoulders and gorgeous sparkling blue eyes that shone brightly in the sunlight. Her nose and head were round, unlike the rest of her family, who had oval-like heads. Amber yawned before replying, "Mm'kay, Mum. I'll be ready in a bit." And with that, she climbed back up the staircase to her bedroom.

"You two better get ready as well," she regarded both Lance and Oliver before leaving the kitchen to retreat to her bedroom. Lance ascended the staircase with excitement still coursing through him. He strolled past his sister's colorful bedroom and past his brother's sea shell bedroom, and he walked until he reached the end of the hallway, where an ocean blue room stood before him.

Lance's father had charmed the room so it had the lingering smell of an ocean breeze, and had the air of being at the beach; his father had done this only days before he had gone to work and not returned. Lance stepped into the bedroom and picked out some Muggle jeans and a flannel shirt before stepping back downstairs and waiting for the rest of his family. He put on a pair of Vans shoes and laced them neatly.

He didn't particularly enjoy dressing like a Muggle, but he felt the urge to wear Muggle clothing from time to time, as did the rest of the inhabitants of his home(excluding the owls). Assuming they traveled by Floo powder, he might end up a little dirty anyway.

As he expected, once the rest of his family had made their way to the living room, his mother took a jar from atop the mantelpiece. "Oliver, you first," She commanded.

Oliver did as told. He threw powder into the fire, then yelled, "Diagon Alley!" before stepping into the now emerald green flames.

"Lance, you next," Lance's mother told him. He repeated his brother's steps and stepped into the emerald flames. He felt himself being swirled and swirled like a whirlpool and other fireplaces danced before him, then he was finally cast out into the Leaky Cauldron.

_How's it goin'? I'm BlaikeRyder(obviously) and this is my first attempt at a Harry Potter fic, so positive support please?:D Anyway, this story isn't the main arc of Lance Fox's tale, rather just the side plot for the series and the main plot of this story. The entire tale is supposed to entail Lance's seven years at Hogwarts and so forth. Suggestions? Thanks for reading, and don't forget to review!_


	2. Firebolt 2000

**Author's Note: Enjoy the story, and please review!**

"Ger'off me!" Oliver shouted at Lance, who quickly stood up just as his mother and sister stepped out from the fire.

"Okay, Lance, I'm trusting you and Oliver to both get your school supplies by yourselves, but STICK TOGETHER!" Lance's mother emphasized the last words before handing them each a sack of Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts.

Lance glanced at Oliver; awe was etched on his face as he stared at the sack of money. "Mum, this is way more money than you've ever given me!" He exclaimed.

"I know," She replied calmly, "but I'm expecting you two to buy robes and equipment that will last for two years at least, okay?" Lance nodded vigorously and graciously took his sack. Hastily putting his in his pocket, Lance and Oliver bid goodbye to their mother and sister and departed to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.

As they entered, they were greeted by a small witch, who Lance assumed was Madam Malkin. "Hello, dears," She greeted them. "In need of Hogwarts robes?"

Oliver answered for Lance. "Yes, ma'am, and if it's okay we'd prefer a more durable material than normal."

Madam Malkin seemed to take slight offense to this and exclaimed, "My robes are all extremely durable and wonderfully made!"

"We meant no offense, Madam Malkin, I'm sure your robes are the finest," Lance swiftly interjected.

With a humph, she began fitting Lance then Oliver, who's robes were only slightly bigger than Lance's. Oliver was tall and lanky, but Lance was tall and more muscular than his brother, but still wasn't much compared to Muggle football players.

As they exited the shop, Lance noticed posters of the man his mom had been talking about. Ashton Bishop had short, clean combed hazel hair, and looked rather sane compared to other Azkaban inmates Lance had heard of.

"What did he do?" Lance asked his brother as they walked to a small shop to buy parchment and quills.

His brother's happy expression faltered slightly then he stated, "Who, Ashton Bishop?" Lance nodded. "He tried to start up You-Know-Who's work again," Oliver explained. "Started torturing half-bloods and Muggle-born wizards in public. That's why dad's been gone so long. Bloody mad if you ask me. "

Lance was pondering if his brother's opinion mattered at all to the Ministry of Magic when he saw a throng of boys and girls crowded around a shop window. Lance and Oliver drew closer to them, and saw that they were all mesmerized by a brand new racing broomstick- the Firebolt 2000. It had a beautifully crafted oak main piece, with a highly polished end.

Lance and Oliver's jaws dropped simultaneously. A sign was posted next to the broomstick stating:

_Win a Firebolt 2000!_

_Only Ten Galleons per entry!_

_Just Sign Your Name and Pay Ten Galleons!_

_Of 50,000 Galleon Value!_

Before Oliver could stop him, Lance raced forward and signed his name. "Lance, what the heck are you doing?" Oliver yelled at him as he ran to stop Lance, but to no avail. Lance had already thrown his name and the galleons into the jet black pot, and a small flame arose from it.

"Are you mad?" Oliver shouted at Lance in clear view of the onlookers. "That money is supposed to buy us supplies for at least TWO years!"

"But what if I win?" Lance roared back, feeling courageous.

"It doesn't matter if you win, that's ten Galleons you just lost us!"

"That broomstick is worth fifty-thousand Galleons!"

Lance and Oliver began arguing and soon people began taking sides in the argument. The crowd was yelling and shouting and drawing a lot of attention to the shop.

"SILENCE!" A voice boomed from overhead. Every head turned skyward to search for the source of the voice. "The drawing for the Firebolt 2000 will now commence!"

A tall man that looked no older than thirty shouted all of these things from a canopy above the store. He waved his wand over the pot, and an envelope flew from the pot.

He squinted at the envelope, trying to read the name. Finally, he said, "Congratulations, Lance Fox! You've won a Firebolt 2000!"

Lance screamed at the top of his lungs, "YES!" and every eye turned to him. There were a few groans and polite clapping as the crowd made way for the tall man to unlock the broomstick from its window. After a few waves of his wand, the broomstick came out of the glass, and appeared in his hand; he handed the broom to a shocked Lance. Lance took the broom and stammered a thanks.

He turned to face Oliver. Oliver stood open mouthed and wide eyed. Finally, he proclaimed, "Well, you're quite a lucky boy, aren't you?" Lance laughed, and Oliver joined him.

"I promise I'll let you use it whenever you want to," Lance promised Oliver as they walked to Flourish and Blott's bookstore. Oliver nodded, and they entered the store together. There were rows and rows of books before him, all stacked upon shelves. It had never impressed upon him until now how amazing this book store was until now.

After they had gathered their required school books, Lance and Oliver browsed the shelves for pure pleasure. Having some pocket change of his own, Lance bought himself _Beginner's Jinxes: How to Use Them, and How to Defend Against Them_.

"Smart buy, never know when you might need to throw a good jinx," Oliver had commented.

Shortly after that, Lance had purchased an owl to send letters home and back. It was a great tan owl, which Lance had decided to name Kingsley, the name of his great grandfather's cousin, who had been an extremely accomplished wizard.

"Just one last thing- your wand." Oliver declared, and Lance could tell Oliver was as excited for him just as Lance was for himself.

They made their way into what appeared to be a shabby looking shop called Ollivander's. As they stepped in they were greeted by a mysterious looking man with moon-like eyes. "Hello Mr. and Mr. Fox," He said, greeting them each in turn.

"Good morning, Mr. Ollivander," Oliver greeted him warmly. They walked across the shabby looking store towards the moon eyed man.

"Ah, Oliver Fox. Ten and a half inches, honeysuckle with unicorn hair. Flexible and particularly good at charms." Ollivander said while still watching the Fox pair. "And you must be his younger brother Lance," Ollivander eyes focused on a nervous Lance.

"I assume you're here to get your first wand?" Ollivander asked him while walking casually to the shelves of wands. Oliver gave Lance a shove towards Ollivander; Ollivander handed Lance what appeared to be just a regular stick.

"Nine and a quarter inches, mahogany with phoenix feather. Nice and firm. Just give the wand a little wave."

Lance, feeling silly, waved the wand back and forth in front of him but it was snatched out of his hand by Ollivander who immediately replaced it with a new wand.

"Twelve inches, beechwood with unicorn hair, nice for transfiguration."

Lance once again waved the wand, but nothing spectacular happened; Ollivander gave him yet another wand, and another, and another, and as the stack of non-usable grew higher and higher, Lance's happiness was rapidly shrinking, however Ollivander's seemed to be growing.

"Tricky customer, eh? Try this last one," He declaimed. "Thirteen and a half inches, unicorn hair with cedar."

Lance swished the wand twice but nothing happened. Ollivander sighed and drew a long, deep breath. "That's all of my wands...every single one of them." Lance felt like crying.

"Then what do I do?" He cried out to Ollivander. "How am I supposed to do magic?"

Ollivander suddenly looked up and shouted, "Of course! I have one final wand in my office that I've been saving for a special customer. Care to try?" Lance nodded vigorously as Oliver went to fetch the wand. What if it didn't work? He would be hopeless, a wizard without a wand is like a chef without a kitchen!

"Okay," Ollivander said returning from behind the massive stack of wands. "This is eleven and three quarter inches, made from ebony with dragon heartstring, an unusual combination."

Lance flicked the wand, and something did indeed happen. But rather than sparks like his brother had described, an enormous black fire erupted from the wand's tip, scorching all in it's path besides the wands. Dark purple was hidden within the dark flames. All too suddenly, the flames stopped, and the wand felt no warmer or colder than it had been when Lance first held it.

Lance risked a glance at Ollivander, fearing he would be outraged at Lance's burning of his shop. "That was... _marvelous._ Simply marvelous!" Ollivander exclaimed.

"That was brilliant, Lance!" How did you do it?" Oliver piped up. Lance stared at the wand in his hand with awe. How did that happen?

"Ollivander, pardon my asking, but what just happened?" Lance implored.

Ollivander shuffled his feet slightly before answering. "The wand you hold in your hands is a fine wand indeed, but it is also finer than many other wands. However, I crafted it quite some time ago, and when it was first lying in my shop, the wand chose not a single witch or wizard. I soon discovered that the wand was not content with any wizard and decided to lock it up safe in my study. Years passed and I observed the wand and studied its qualities. Not a single wizard before today has had that wand choose him.

"I've studied the wand for years, and I can gather this much. You hold a wand in your hands that is capable of dark, dark magic. Magic that is unknown to even the most skilled Dark wizards. This is a wand that will never fail you in dueling, nor will it's power ever fade. Be careful with that wand, Lance Fox."

Lance quickly paid his seven gold Galleons for the wand and left the burned shop where Ollivander still stood awestruck. Lance and Oliver returned with his wand and broomstick to the Leaky Cauldron where his mother stood waiting for him.

"How in Merlin's beard did you get that broomstick?" She demanded of him at once. Lance and Oliver quickly told of how Lance had obtained the broomstick.

"And if you think that's crazy, mom," Lance told her, "Then you should hear about my wand." He recounted his wand's reaction to his taking hold of it and the wand's ominous past.

"That is strange!" Lance's mom exclaimed as they made their way to the fireplace. Lance stood before the fireplace and threw in a pinch of Floo Powder. The flames whipped forward turning into an emerald color and as he walked into their outstretched arms, he called his address, and the world span before him.


End file.
